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Aug. 28th, 2003 10:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sister-wolf.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionWhy did a porn challenge cause me to write angst? It's a mystery to me. Weighing in at 649 words:
Faking It
Ray looks very serious, frowning in concentration, as he slowly enters me. As always, he's gentle, careful not to hurt me. Something bluesy on the stereo-- Joan Osborne, I think. I catch the refrain, Oh my crazy baby, try to hold on tight, and it's almost enough to make me laugh. Or cry. I can't tell anymore.
I run my hands up and down his back. He's sweating lightly, breathing a little fast. I try to seem turned on, for his sake. I know how badly he wants to make this right. I don't think it's possible anymore. But I still love him, I do, even with all the anger and the misunderstandings, and oh god, I can't think about it now or I'm going to lose even the low buzz of arousal I've managed to gather together. I do love him. Still. And I'd do just about anything to get that wounded look out of his eyes. Except the one thing he wants.
I can't stay.
Fifteen years of marriage. Over twenty years together. I can’t do it anymore. I'm suffocating.
He kisses the side of my throat, nibbling gently below my ear. He knows my body inside and out, knows all my spots. I should be shivering and moaning from that touch. I try to fake it.
I don't feel like I'm even in my body right now. There's a fuzzy distance between the physical reality-- Ray, warm and strong, bending down to kiss my nipples-- and the dark, empty place where I am in my head. I just want this to be over.
Tears are gathering at the corners of my eyes. I open my eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall. It would kill Ray if he saw that I was crying while he made love to me. Even with everything the way it's been-- the fights, the jealousy, the blame-- I can't stand to hurt him that way.
I shift my body, canting my hips up and locking my ankles together, high around his waist. It's not the best position for me-- my thighs ache slightly with the unaccustomed stretch-- but Ray's always said it feels incredible for him. I start to moan under my breath, slowly stepping up the volume and intensity. Ray drops his head onto my shoulder, randomly kissing and mouthing at the skin. I can feel the tension start to mount in the muscles of his back. He's getting close. Thank god.
His thrusts speed up. He props himself up higher on his elbows. His eyes are closed, his lips pressed tightly together. He looks like he's in pain. When we were younger and happy, I used to tease him about that. Now it's just a sign that this will be over soon.
I rake my nails down his back, crying out, bearing down on him with my pelvic muscles. He gasps raggedly, thrusting hard and out of rhythm.
"Oh god--" He sounds lost, helpless, in extremis. "Oh, god, Stella, Stella..." Shaking, he collapses onto me, clutching at my shoulders.
I slide one hand into the soft hair at the back of his head, cradling him against me. Oh, Ray. God I wish we could make this right.
He's still inside me, though he's softening. I relax my legs, let them slide down the backs of his thighs. He shivers all over and raises his head, looking down into my eyes. "I love you."
"Love you too," I whisper.
"It's really over, isn't it." He almost sounds calm. He sighs and closes his eyes and kisses me, sweetly, chastely, on the lips. Like we're thirteen again, trading innocent kisses behind the gym. Pain squeezes down on my heart and I can't catch my breath. We'll never be that innocent again.
“Yes,” I say. “It's over.”
I can't fake it anymore.
***
Faking It
Ray looks very serious, frowning in concentration, as he slowly enters me. As always, he's gentle, careful not to hurt me. Something bluesy on the stereo-- Joan Osborne, I think. I catch the refrain, Oh my crazy baby, try to hold on tight, and it's almost enough to make me laugh. Or cry. I can't tell anymore.
I run my hands up and down his back. He's sweating lightly, breathing a little fast. I try to seem turned on, for his sake. I know how badly he wants to make this right. I don't think it's possible anymore. But I still love him, I do, even with all the anger and the misunderstandings, and oh god, I can't think about it now or I'm going to lose even the low buzz of arousal I've managed to gather together. I do love him. Still. And I'd do just about anything to get that wounded look out of his eyes. Except the one thing he wants.
I can't stay.
Fifteen years of marriage. Over twenty years together. I can’t do it anymore. I'm suffocating.
He kisses the side of my throat, nibbling gently below my ear. He knows my body inside and out, knows all my spots. I should be shivering and moaning from that touch. I try to fake it.
I don't feel like I'm even in my body right now. There's a fuzzy distance between the physical reality-- Ray, warm and strong, bending down to kiss my nipples-- and the dark, empty place where I am in my head. I just want this to be over.
Tears are gathering at the corners of my eyes. I open my eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall. It would kill Ray if he saw that I was crying while he made love to me. Even with everything the way it's been-- the fights, the jealousy, the blame-- I can't stand to hurt him that way.
I shift my body, canting my hips up and locking my ankles together, high around his waist. It's not the best position for me-- my thighs ache slightly with the unaccustomed stretch-- but Ray's always said it feels incredible for him. I start to moan under my breath, slowly stepping up the volume and intensity. Ray drops his head onto my shoulder, randomly kissing and mouthing at the skin. I can feel the tension start to mount in the muscles of his back. He's getting close. Thank god.
His thrusts speed up. He props himself up higher on his elbows. His eyes are closed, his lips pressed tightly together. He looks like he's in pain. When we were younger and happy, I used to tease him about that. Now it's just a sign that this will be over soon.
I rake my nails down his back, crying out, bearing down on him with my pelvic muscles. He gasps raggedly, thrusting hard and out of rhythm.
"Oh god--" He sounds lost, helpless, in extremis. "Oh, god, Stella, Stella..." Shaking, he collapses onto me, clutching at my shoulders.
I slide one hand into the soft hair at the back of his head, cradling him against me. Oh, Ray. God I wish we could make this right.
He's still inside me, though he's softening. I relax my legs, let them slide down the backs of his thighs. He shivers all over and raises his head, looking down into my eyes. "I love you."
"Love you too," I whisper.
"It's really over, isn't it." He almost sounds calm. He sighs and closes his eyes and kisses me, sweetly, chastely, on the lips. Like we're thirteen again, trading innocent kisses behind the gym. Pain squeezes down on my heart and I can't catch my breath. We'll never be that innocent again.
“Yes,” I say. “It's over.”
I can't fake it anymore.
***
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Date: 2003-08-29 11:04 am (UTC)"It's really over, isn't it." He almost sounds calm. He sighs and closes his eyes and kisses me, sweetly, chastely, on the lips. Like we're thirteen again, trading innocent kisses behind the gym. Pain squeezes down on my heart and I can't catch my breath. We'll never be that innocent again.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-02 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-29 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-02 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-29 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2003-08-29 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-02 01:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-29 03:12 pm (UTC)And I'd do just about anything to get that wounded look out of his eyes.
Beautifully put. Hey, it's one of the few time faking it isn't a bad idea! Sniff. Poor Stella. Poor Ray.
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Date: 2003-09-02 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
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